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New Jersey-born hip-hop artist TONY NEW is embracing personal evolution with his album FOREVER GOOD, a deeply reflective project exploring identity, ambition, and the courage to leave the past behind. Blending soulful, sample-driven production with smooth vocals and pop-rap influences, TONY NEW delivers a project rooted in self-discovery and the determination to build something meaningful. Also known as Tony Newbury, TONY NEW has accumulated over two million streams across platforms while building an impressive behind-the-scenes career. His songwriting, engineering, and production experience includes collaborations with A$AP Rocky, YG, Malik Yusef, WESTSIDE BOOGIE, and Buddy. Before relocating to Los Angeles, TONY NEW taught music production to young creatives at Newark's HUBB Arts and Trauma Center. This experience strengthened his commitment to using music as a vehicle for opportunity. Created over three years, the album documents TONY NEW's decision to embrace his identity without compromise. Throughout the creative process, he confronted relationships, experiences, and expectations that no longer aligned with his future. Rather than presenting personal growth as an overnight transformation, FOREVER GOOD acknowledges the uncomfortable decisions required to move forward. The project also features “DOPAMINE REMIX,” accompanied by a music video featuring WESTSIDE BOOGIE. Shot by R3x Wonders and Natalie Cali, the visual adds another dimension to TONY NEW's expanding creative world. “I want people to feel inspired to follow their vision and understand that there's no timetable for creating something,” TONY NEW shares. Beyond his own artistic ambitions, TONY NEW envisions building opportunities for other creatives, potentially through leadership or establishing a record label. With FOREVER GOOD, TONY NEW reinforces a message that extends beyond music: meaningful success begins with knowing yourself, trusting your direction, and refusing to stop moving forward. You spent three years developing FOREVER GOOD, and you've described the process as becoming more unapologetically yourself. What was the biggest personal realization you had during those three years, and how did it change the album's direction? As much as I thought I was all in, I realized I was still holding myself back from being the real me. I was saying yes to things I thought were opportunities, but were really just feeding my ego. I had to start investing more in myself, which meant therapy, being vulnerable, and becoming more selective about who I allowed into my life. I’m still working on myself, but I’ve learned that I can be there for others without losing myself in the process. You've worked behind the scenes with artists like A$AP Rocky, YG, and WESTSIDE BOOGIE. What have those experiences taught you about navigating the industry, and how have they shaped the identity you're building as TONY NEW? To be relentless. To keep going even when I feel like giving up. Those experiences taught me more than I expected, not just about the industry, but about myself. I wasn’t perfect in those moments either, and I want people to know that. I used to imagine meeting artists I fucked with and everything going perfectly, but that’s not real life. I’m grateful those artists showed me love, but I learned a lot just by being myself and figuring things out as I went. I’m still learning, still growing, and that’s what TONY NEW is about. Just being real with myself and continuing to go after what I want, no matter what. “DOPAMINE REMIX” features WESTSIDE BOOGIE, with a visual brought to life by R3x Wonders and Natalie Cali. How did that collaboration come together, and what did you want the music video to communicate beyond the song itself? The link-up with Boogie all happened through Instagram. Thank God for the internet lol. I met R3x through another artist friend, and Cali was a videographer friend of his. I really just wanted a clean visual that captured the feeling of a high, something with effects and constant edits. R3x really killed it and brought the vision to life. Before moving to Los Angeles, you taught music production to young people at The HUBB Arts and Trauma Center in Newark. How did working with those aspiring creatives shape your perspective on success, responsibility, and the kind of impact you want to have in music? Man, it really changed the way I look at life. People always talk to me about not selling your soul or becoming a puppet in the game. But now, I got these kids I want to inspire. I want to be somebody they can look at and see that you don’t have to be something you’re not just to make it. Working with them showed me a lot of different perspectives and ways of thinking. It made me realize that what you do with your life can mean a lot more than just what you accomplish for yourself. I want to show people that you can move how you want to move, stay true to yourself, and still make something happen. That’s really the goal. You've spoken about eventually creating opportunities for other artists, potentially through your own label. What do you think the music industry is missing right now in supporting genuine creatives, and what would you do differently if you were in a position to lead that change? I think it’s about helping independent artists get access to the same kind of network and connections that a lot of artists on major labels have. It’s a different world now. Anybody can put music out from home, but I think things are gonna shift again. I wanna stay aware of that and learn how to adapt. And if I can help other artists figure things out for themselves along the way, that’s important to me. Nobody really taught me everything I needed to know. I had to find my own way, and I’m still doing that. I just wanna make that process a little easier for somebody else.

Nova Scotia-born, Toronto-based singer-songwriter SHEAL is inviting listeners into a deeply personal exploration of memory, motherhood, and belonging with her latest EP, home-going. Released September 24, the four-track project reflects on the emotional distance between where we come from and who we become. Produced by Eric Vanier, home-going blends beautiful piano arrangements, intimate vocals, and cinematic folk-pop influences to create a listening experience rooted in vulnerability and reflection. Recorded largely around SHEAL's voice and upright piano, the EP embraces simplicity while allowing its storytelling to take center stage. Opening track “Falling Asleep” captures the bittersweet emotions of motherhood, particularly the desire to slow down time as children grow. “Press Rewind” transports listeners to SHEAL's Nova Scotia upbringing, revisiting familiar landscapes, childhood friendships, and memories that continue shaping her identity. On “Grow,” SHEAL shifts toward themes of uncertainty, personal development, and learning to embrace life's unexpected changes. Closing track “Back Where I Started” brings the journey full circle, revisiting musical elements from her previous EP, golden hours, while examining the complicated relationship between past experiences and present choices. What makes home-going resonate is SHEAL's ability to transform deeply personal reflections into universally relatable moments. Rather than presenting nostalgia as something entirely comforting, she acknowledges the vulnerability that comes with revisiting our roots. With previous support from CBC Radio and SiriusXM, SHEAL continues developing an authentic artistic identity, delivering a thoughtful reminder that home isn't always a destination, but something we carry within us. The title home-going suggests that returning home is more about the journey than the destination. What inspired that perspective, and how has your definition of home evolved since becoming a mother? All of my childhood memories are in Nova Scotia, where I grew up, and although I call Toronto home now, the East Coast will always feel like home to me too. I think part of the journey “towards home” is figuring out how to carry some of my past experiences with me as my life changes. Becoming a parent has added another layer to that, because while I’m looking back on the places and experiences that shaped me, I’m also in the process of creating that sense of home for my own daughters here in Toronto. This is where their formative memories are being made, and where they’ll have their own childhood to look back on one day. I like that the term home-going is an action word, and as you said, it’s more about the journey itself, not the resolution of that journey. “Press Rewind” revisits your Nova Scotia upbringing through memories and familiar places. Was there a particular memory that resurfaced during the songwriting process and changed how you viewed your childhood? I started writing “Press Rewind” when I was back visiting the East Coast last summer. I’m not sure there was one particular memory that surfaced in the writing -I think I was more interested in this idea that so many of our memories are tied to a physical place. For the last couple of years, whenever I visit Nova Scotia, I’ve been making a point of driving past old haunts (like my high school or a childhood friend’s house) just to see what memories get evoked. I find it super interesting that people who grow up somewhere and continue to live there carry their memories in a different way than someone who leaves. For me, it sometimes feels like those memories are locked into the place itself, if that makes sense. Living in Toronto, I can’t quite access them in the same way, but when I go back East, I find that these memories come to the surface much more easily, whether through visual reminders or familiar smells (like the ocean air, for example). Motherhood plays a significant role throughout this EP. How has raising your daughters influenced the stories you choose to tell through your music, and has it changed the way you approach songwriting? I think motherhood has made me more aware of time passing and how fragile life actually is. That’s something I’ve been exploring in my songwriting for a while, including on my previous EP, golden hours, which was all about gratitude, paying attention, and the desire to be more fully present in life. My song “Falling Asleep” on this new EP really leans into those feelings as well. There’s this line in the song, “How sunlight hits your face on a lazy afternoon,” which I wrote during the fall, watching the afternoon (golden hour) light on my daughter’s face in the backyard, and feeling this overwhelming gratitude for her life and for my own. I’m not setting out to write songs about motherhood, but I think it inevitably finds its way into my writing because it shapes so much of how I experience the world. It has certainly made me more conscious of how fleeting life is, and I think that increasing awareness has become a big part of the stories I want to tell. You intentionally revisited uncomfortable memories while creating home-going. Was there anything you discovered about yourself during that process that you weren't expecting? I’d like to think that this process has helped me be a little more able to sit with discomfort. I certainly think I’ve become more curious about exploring who I was at different points in my life. I think age, and also becoming a parent, has given me a different perspective on my own childhood. Watching my kids grow up has made me more compassionate towards younger versions of myself. When you’re younger, it can feel as though your experiences are entirely unique to you, but as you get older, you start to recognize how much of who you are is shaped by the circumstances you’re born into, most of which are beyond your control. I think that perspective has made me a little less judgmental of my past self and more curious. Rather than trying to resolve or explain everything, I’m increasingly interested in understanding those earlier versions of myself or my life at that time with a bit more compassion and perspective. “Back Where I Started” revisits a chord progression from your previous EP, golden hours. What inspired you to connect these two projects musically, and what does that creative decision represent about your growth as an artist? When I was writing for my EP golden hours, I had been inspired by Daniel Caesar's song “Cool”, which was written with just four chords. I decided I wanted to give myself the same parameters. I remember having a couple of different voice memos from the beginning of that writing process. One of them eventually became “Unraveling,” but another had a completely different melody and feel to it. This time around, I was excited by the idea of going back and revisiting that other voice memo, and those same chord progressions, just to see what other possibilities could be explored. This is where my new song ‘Back Where I Started’ came from. I like to think about art as a series of creative decisions. Making a decision means choosing a certain direction to explore - which also inevitably means leaving other paths unexplored. I like the idea that two songs can come from the same starting point and end up in such different places. This is something I’d love to (and plan to) continue exploring in future projects.

Los Angeles-based singer, songwriter, and performer ALONZO is delivering an empowering message of self-love and personal transformation with his single “WORTHY,” accompanied by a visually striking music video that celebrates identity, resilience, and the importance of recognizing your own value. Blending soulful vocals with influences from rock, pop, and cinematic storytelling, the release introduces a deeply personal chapter in ALONZO's evolving artistic journey. Written during a period of emotional healing, “WORTHY” emerged as ALONZO began opening his heart after an extended period of emotional distance. Produced by Quincy Holland, the song explores the difference between being told you're loved and experiencing the consistency, respect, and genuine commitment that meaningful relationships require. The accompanying music video, directed by José “Hollywood” Ramos and filmed in Lancaster, California, brings that message to life through a captivating combination of Afrocentric futurism, high-fashion imagery, and ceremonial storytelling. Featuring Black women at the center of its visual narrative, the independently funded production celebrates empowerment through expressive movement, striking landscapes, and powerful symbolism. ALONZO's impressive career includes becoming an America's Got Talent finalist, performing alongside Christina Aguilera, and serving as lead vocalist for 4U: A Symphonic Celebration of Prince. His experience as a certified meditation teacher and sound healer further influences his approach to creating music that encourages personal reflection and emotional growth. With “WORTHY,” ALONZO transforms an intimate affirmation into a universal message, reminding listeners that genuine love begins with recognizing their own worth and refusing to settle for anything less. “WORTHY” was born during a period when you were beginning to open your heart again after emotional isolation. What did that experience teach you about the difference between wanting to be loved and genuinely believing you deserve it? It taught me that wanting love and believing you deserve it can lead you to make very different choices. When you only want to be loved, it can become easy to treat someone choosing you as proof of your value. You may excuse inconsistency, shrink your needs, or hold on to a connection simply because you are afraid of returning to the isolation you came from. Believing you are worthy of love asks more of you. It requires you to recognize that being chosen is not enough if the relationship repeatedly asks you to abandon yourself. When my heart began to open again, I had to be honest about the fact that healing did not mean becoming available to anything. It meant becoming available to love that could actually meet me. The chorus, “I am worthy of love,” came to me almost like a meditation. At first, it was a reminder I needed. The more I repeated it, the less it felt like something I was hoping another person would confirm, and the more it became something I knew. That shift is at the center of the song. I can be openhearted and still require action, consistency, trust, and respect. The music video places Black women at the center of its visual narrative, combining Afrocentric futurism, ceremonial imagery, and high fashion. What inspired this creative direction, and what conversations about representation and empowerment were you hoping to encourage? I have always seen Black women as royalty, but I wanted the video to communicate that without reducing them to a symbol or placing them around me as decoration. They needed to be the emotional and visual center of the film. Their stillness, formation, beauty, softness, and power shape the world of “WORTHY.” Having my mother portray the Queen made that intention even more personal. When I imagined the heart of this visual, I knew exactly who the Queen had to be. José “Hollywood” Ramos and I were not interested in creating a literal romantic storyline. We wanted the film to feel like a ceremony of remembering. Afrocentric futurism gave us a language that could connect ancestry, imagination, and possibility, while the high-fashion styling made the images feel contemporary rather than historical. The natural landscape grounded everything. I hope the video encourages a conversation that goes beyond simply including Black women in the frame. Representation also concerns who is given authority, and the freedom to exist without explaining themselves. In “WORTHY,” Black women are not waiting to be validated by the story. They are the standard, the witnesses, and the world itself. At the same time, the affirmation remains universal. Every person watching should be able to leave with the understanding that they are already worthy of love. You independently funded and developed the “WORTHY” music video without compromising your artistic vision. What were the biggest challenges of bringing such an ambitious production to life, and what did the experience teach you about creative independence? The greatest challenge was that the vision was much larger than the resources available to me. Every location, garment, rehearsal, crew member, and hour of post-production had a real financial consequence because I was funding the project myself. There was no label budget or invisible safety net behind the decisions. I had to understand where we could be flexible and where compromising would weaken the meaning of the film. What made the process possible was preparation and a team that genuinely believed in the vision. José, our choreographer Kiira Harper, executive producer Brynn Samms, our performers, stylists, production crew, and post-production team all brought something essential to the final result. Creative independence did not mean doing everything alone. It meant maintaining ownership of the intention while surrounding myself with people capable of making it stronger. The experience taught me that limitations can force clarity. When you cannot afford every idea, you have to understand which ideas are actually carrying the story. It also proved to me that independent work does not have to look like a compromise. I am proud that the finished video feels cinematic and fully realized, but I am equally proud that it is specific. No one had to permit me to center Black women, use the live arrangement, or allow the film to unfold at its own pace. That freedom was worth protecting. Your career has taken you from America's Got Talent to performing alongside Christina Aguilera and interpreting Prince's music onstage. How have those experiences shaped your identity as a performer, and what have you had to unlearn to discover your own artistic voice? Those experiences taught me how to meet a moment. “America’s Got Talent” introduced me to the pressure of being evaluated in front of a massive audience. Touring internationally taught me endurance and how to communicate beyond language. Sharing the stage with Christina Aguilera showed me the level of preparation and command required at the highest level. Serving as the lead vocalist for “4U: A Symphonic Celebration of Prince,” with the approval of the Prince Estate, demanded musicianship, fearlessness, and respect. I had to honor one of the greatest catalogs ever created without attempting to imitate the person who created it. Performing that music with an orchestra, including at Red Rocks, expanded my understanding of scale while teaching me to protect emotional detail. What I had to unlearn was the belief that being chosen by a major show, artist, or institution was the clearest evidence of my worth. Those opportunities were meaningful, but they could not define the artist I would become. For a long time, I knew how to walk into someone else’s world and deliver at a high level. The deeper challenge was trusting that my own ideas deserved the same commitment. I also had to move beyond creating simply to prove that I could sing. The voice is an instrument, but artistry is the point of view behind it. My work now is less concerned with demonstrating ability and more concerned with building a complete world where the music, visual language, movement, and message all come from the same intention. Beyond music, you're a certified meditation teacher and sound healer, and “WORTHY” introduces a larger creative vision connecting those practices with performance. How do you envision bringing these worlds together, and what do you want audiences to experience beyond simply listening to your music? My vision is to bring healing into pop culture and reach people who may never walk into a meditation class but will press play on a music video or come to a concert. I do not want to make music that feels like a wellness lecture, and I do not want the healing element to make the work any less bold, fashionable, or entertaining. I want to entertain at the highest level while giving the audience something that can stay with them after the performance ends. Meditation and sound healing have changed how I understand breath, repetition, silence, and the effect sound has on the body. Those ideas can live in a guided meditation, but they can also shape the pacing of a concert, the emotional arc of an arrangement, or the moment of stillness before the entire room becomes loud again. The “WORTHY” album, “WORTHY: A Guided Meditation,” the visual, and “The WORTHY Experience” at the Troubadour on November 4 are all different entrances into the same world. Beyond listening, I want audiences to experience themselves. I want them to dance, feel overwhelmed by a vocal or an image, become quiet enough to hear what is happening internally, and leave more connected to their own worth. Entertainment can be an escape, but it can also be a doorway. My goal is to create work that does both.

San Antonio, Texas-based garage rock band Street Lamp is opening up about the pain of losing someone with their single “2k,” an emotional release that explores heartbreak, loneliness, and the struggle to move forward after a relationship ends. Through honest lyrics and powerful moments, the band captures the feelings that come with letting go of someone you once loved. Formed in 2020, Street Lamp has been making its mark on the independent rock scene with one album, three EPs, and several singles under their belt. Having performed across 14 states over the past three years, the band continues to reach new audiences with their Southern rock roots, garage rock sound, and personal approach to songwriting. With “2k,” Street Lamp takes listeners through the different stages of a breakup, from constantly thinking about what went wrong to feeling completely alone while trying to heal. The song touches on how heartbreak can affect everyday life, making even the simplest things feel difficult. One of the song's most meaningful lyrics, “I'll find you in the stars when we are out in space,” speaks to the feeling of missing someone while knowing that keeping your distance is the best way to move forward. As the song builds, those feelings turn into frustration and sadness, showing how a breakup can make it difficult to accept love and support from the people around you. “I wrote this to cope with my own process of dealing with a breakup with hopes that someone out there can listen, relate, and feel less alone,” shares Sabrina Cioffi. With “2k,” Street Lamp reminds listeners that heartbreak can change how we see ourselves and the world around us, but nobody has to feel alone while finding their way through it. This song explores the stages of heartbreak, particularly the moments when isolation feels more comforting than accepting support. Sabrina, what was the most difficult emotion to confront while writing it, and did putting those feelings into music change how you understood your own breakup? The most difficult emotion to confront while writing this song was fear of not knowing what the future holds. It sort of feels like everything stops for a brief moment before you have to continue on without a person. As I began writing this song, I basically took it a line at a time and at the end of the song, I was able to really see the whole picture of what was going through my mind. The lyric “I'll find you in the stars when we are out in space” captures the strange connection that can remain between two people who are no longer speaking. Where did that imagery come from, and what does it represent to you now that you've had some distance from the experience? “I’ll find you in the stars when we are out in space,” comes from resisting the urge to speak to another person by being satisfied enough that you share the same sky. This lyric still resonates with me. I feel some things are better left alone and to resist the urge to reopen that wound, it is best to speak to the stars. Maybe yell at the sky what you wish you could say as a form of relief. The song builds toward an explosive emotional release after spending much of its narrative exploring loneliness and defeat. How did the band approach translating that emotional progression into the arrangement, and what decisions helped capture the intensity of those final moments? Our band is known for heavy switch ups and transitions. This song is one of the few that sticks with the same chord progression throughout the song. Our guitarist, Nick, suggested we end the song with a fusion of heavy distortion and heavy drums. I then layered a painful cry of lyrics to match the energy. Since forming in 2020, Street Lamp has released an album, three EPs, and toured across 14 states. How have those years on the road influenced your songwriting and chemistry as a band, and what have you learned about connecting with audiences outside your hometown? Years on the road have truly brought us closer as a band. It’s the ultimate sacrifice of how bad you want it. You can’t help but grow caring for everyone and close as a band when we are all just trying to make it day by day. This strong chemistry is applied in our practices, where we can create new material, and in our performances. We were nervous at first playing for a different crowd in a whole different state, but everywhere we have played is very community-driven and very supportive of us. It was a pleasant surprise that people were so friendly and engaging with us even as an out-of-state band. Heartbreak can make people reject the very love and support they need most. What do you hope listeners experiencing that kind of emotional isolation recognize in this song, and what has creating it taught you about the difference between being alone and genuinely healing? My intention with this song is for people who are going through some sort of separation to gain a sense of relief or comfort in knowing they are not alone. Unfortunately, it is a very universal experience. I feel there is just an overwhelming wave of emotions that flood our bodies when going through something like this, and it can often make us feel alone. When we first dropped this song, I remembered listening to it over and over just because I resonated so deeply with the lyrics. In this song, I call myself out on being surrounded by love but still feeling alone. It was then I realized how I needed to sit and feel my emotions instead of relying on those around me to distract me from them. I snapped into this sort of “isolation” phase, and it was then that I allowed myself to not only hurt, but also to heal.

Credit: Corey Frank The Asbury Park band talks about their new EP All Of The Time, recording it across three home studios, playing Sea.Hear.Now, and why they skipped the post-punk revival. Asbury Park has never been short on bands, but few of them sound like Tide Bends. On All Of The Time, a four-song EP out now on Mint 400 Records, the quartet keep the heartland-rock frame they’ve built over the past decade and loosen it up, letting in the swing of Madchester and ’90s Britpop. The result sits near Beck, Blur, and Spoon, in a strain of melodic, UK-tinged rock from the late ’90s and early 2000s that almost nobody is making now. Plenty of bands mining the past fall back on post-punk revival by default. Tide Bends chose a less-traveled path. Lead single “Advice” is a loose, grooving shrug at people who hand out life lessons they could stand to follow themselves. Frontman Dave Hough says it’s less about frustration than about poking fun at the hypocrisy, however well-meaning. The EP was also made close to home. Hough, drummer Dan Nolan, bassist MJ Hancock, and guitarist Rudy Meier, who also plays in Jersey post-hardcore band Prop House, tracked across three home setups around the Shore, in Belmar, Brick, and Ocean Township. Meier then mixed it at his Yung Bull Studios. We talked with Hough about the band’s lineup changes, where the Jersey scene stands now, playing a festival on the beach where he used to walk his dog, and how parenthood changed the way he writes. Tide Bends began as two people and grew into the four-piece you are now. How did the band get from there to here? It started with me and Dan around 2015. Gary Zampini joined on bass in 2016 and played with us until 2024. Rudy came in on second guitar around 2022, which was nice and let me focus more on vocals. MJ took over on bass in 2024, and that really changed the dynamic because he adds so much vocally. Same goes for Rudy. Now we have three-part harmonies. All Of The Time started as home demos I shared in the group chat, and the band was fully behind making it a band record. The Asbury Park scene is huge and goes in many directions, yet hardly anyone there sounds like you. The Britpop and Madchester thread has been part of your sound from the beginning. Where did that come from, and how have you kept it your own instead of letting it become a throwback? Asbury’s always been a bellwether for bands, more so now that the East Brunswick scene has cooled off, sadly. I’d like to see those spots liven back up. Red Bank, East Brunswick, Hoboken, Jersey City. A rising tide lifts all boats, you know? I think we come at it from a slightly different angle, mostly because of where we are in life. Families, careers, less time to meander. I grew up in the heyday of MTV Unplugged, which opened doors to the music I needed. Oasis and Blur led me to the Stone Roses and Ride. Our tastes all overlap. The Venn diagram is real. I read an interview with Stephen Malkmus where he said, to some extent, that the music we make is a digestion of everything we’ve listened to, especially in our formative years. That sounds about right. You’ve played Sea.Hear.Now, right in your own backyard. What was that like? Give us an update on everything else too. Are you touring, and what’s coming after this EP? Sheesh. It was an experience. Getting the treatment, the help with gear, the parking, the access. Hearing yourself that loud, right on the beach where I’ve spent so much time staring back at the shore from the water. I will say it’s a little odd being that far from the crowd. That takes some getting used to. I’ve always preferred being nose to nose with the front row. The whole weekend flew by, because you want to take in everything the day and those magic wristbands have to offer. Being side stage for TV on the Radio was a highlight. Watching Spoon and LCD Soundsystem on the grass where I walked my dog for years. Come on. It’s a head trip. But we did it, it was awesome, and now it’s a blurry, sweaty memory. Huge thanks to Sea.Hear.Now for having us. As for now, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern. I’ve got a little vocal cord issue, so we’re not playing or touring until I get it sorted. It’s a bummer, but it’s giving us time to write new songs to follow up the EP. It’ll be OK. These songs started with you, Dave, but the band recorded them across three home setups in Belmar, Brick, and Ocean Township, with Rudy pulling it all together at the mix. How did that way of working shape the record? Did anything surprise you when you heard it all side by side? These songs started as demos at home. I’d written them thinking they might be a solo record someday. Who knows if that ever comes, and I have a hard time keeping ideas to myself, so I shared them with the band. Pretty quickly we all agreed we wanted to blow these up as much as we could. Having everyone on board and vibing with them was really special. I tracked at my house. Dan did drums at Rudy’s place, Yung Bull Studios in Brick, along with some guitars and synths. MJ has a home studio where he did bass, piano, and synths. Then Rudy mixed the whole thing at Yung Bull. It didn’t set any speed records, but letting it be that organic and homegrown is how it had to happen, I think. The idea was to replace, layer, and give space. I don’t think we’ll work this way forever, but it showed us another way to build songs up, and it gave everything plenty of room to breathe. As for surprises, there were definitely moments that blew me away, hearing what these guys came up with to complete a song. Drums, guitar, bass, vocals. All around. Dave, you’ve become a dad in the last few years, and “Advice” is about people telling you how to live when they haven’t figured it out themselves. Did parenthood play into that song? More broadly, how has being a father changed the way you write, or what you even want to write about? Maybe peripherally? I wouldn’t say any one song on here is about parenthood or that transition. I’ve written songs about that, and I think I wear that stuff on my sleeve. If there’s a through line on these songs, it’s probably transition and reflection, and a good amount of rapidly changing perspectives. There’s something about hearing unsolicited advice that makes me smile internally. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting older, and that’s part of the gift of age. Time is a thief. That said, being a parent has forced me to be more surgical about playing music, writing music, all of it. My voice memo app is crucial. You never know when something will hit, so you have to log it. If you don’t, it’ll probably drown in the sink of sleep deprivation with all the other ideas that never saw the light of day. Follow Tide Bends on Instagram. Listen the the entire EP here.

After decades of performing alongside music legends and building an accomplished behind-the-scenes career, New York-based drummer and producer Andy Korn is entering the spotlight with his debut single under his own name. His reinterpretation of John Prine’s beloved classic “Angel From Montgomery” brings together Americana storytelling, blue-eyed soul influences, and the unmistakable rhythmic instincts of an experienced musician. Andy Korn’s musical career has taken him from New York to San Francisco, Portland, and back, including a remarkable 15-year tenure as drummer for Ronnie Spector during the height of her solo career. Along the way, Andy Korn contributed to sessions involving Keith Richards and Joey Ramone, establishing a career rooted in musical range and collaboration. Andy Korn was inspired to cover “Angel From Montgomery” when longtime friend Josh Lava performed a stripped-down piano-and-vocal rendition. Recognizing something special, Andy Korn invited Josh Lava to record lead vocals and keys for a fuller production. Rather than reinventing the song through unnecessary embellishment, Andy Korn approaches the classic with restraint, prioritizing groove, emotional richness, and the power of John Prine’s original storytelling. Drawing inspiration from legendary drummers including Jim Gordon, Levon Helm, Andy Newmark, and Ritchie Hayward, Andy Korn builds the arrangement around a patient, soulful rhythmic foundation. The result is a thoughtful balance between instrumental craftsmanship and lyrical intimacy. “At the end of the day, I hope people just feel something,” Andy Korn shares, stressing the universal emotions that make the song resonate across generations. This release is particularly meaningful because it reflects Andy Korn’s creative identity. It brings his experience as a drummer, musician, and producer together in one recording. With more singles planned across multiple genres, “Angel From Montgomery” introduces an exciting new chapter for an artist whose musical contributions have already spanned decades. You spent 15 years performing with Ronnie Spector and contributed to sessions involving Keith Richards and Joey Ramone. What did those experiences teach you about creating music that feels timeless rather than tied to a particular era? I’m a musical omnivore. I’ve always listened to and appreciated all kinds of music. I grew up a Stones fan, and I was a big admirer of Charlie Watts. I was also a fan of the Ronettes and the Ramones long before I got the drum chair with Ronnie. Hal Blaine’s and Tommy Ramone’s drumming is legendary, and those parts have lasted because they serve the song. I learned the music of the Ramones, the Ronettes and the Stones, so when a song called for that style, I was ready. Studio work wasn’t plentiful in those days, so my experience was limited, and working with Ronnie’s producers on the album, Joey Ramone and Daniel Rey, was a real education. Even my first session with Keith Richards taught me something. A band member had told me beforehand not to play hi-hat on 2 and 4, among other directions. I’d seen the Stones live two or three times and watched Charlie Watts, and sure enough, he doesn’t play it there, so whenever I played a Stones tune, I’d switch to that drum style. When Keith walked in, we started a tune, and after it ended he said, ‘Drummer Andy, really great.’ Then he turned to the person who’d been giving me and everyone else directions and started giving them very ‘specific’ notes. A bit of karma, and pretty ironic. What it all comes down to is listening, taking direction, drawing on what you know, setting your ego and subjectivity aside, and keeping it simple. That’s what I hear in those Ronettes and Ramones records. They never chased a trend, and that’s why they still sound fresh today. Hearing Josh Lava perform “Angel From Montgomery” sparked the inspiration for this release. What about that performance made you realize you had something new to contribute to such an iconic song? When I saw Josh Lava’s video of ‘Angel From Montgomery,’ it was just him and a piano, but he played it like he was playing in a band. It had a groove I couldn’t shake, a Richard Tee and Billy Preston feel, that soulful, pocket-driven keyboard sound Richard brought to his work with Paul Simon and Billy Idol. That’s how I listen when an artist brings me a song. I tap into the immediate possibilities of how my own musical ideas can fit into the stripped-down version. Watching and listening to Josh’s version, I could see and hear what the potential of the song could naturally become. I listened to twenty or thirty versions of this song, and they’re all great performances. I think of it like driving the same route and looking out the window. The road doesn’t change, but you see different views each time. Josh’s version gave me a view I hadn’t seen before. To me, this is a song about life, about the parts of it that don’t turn out how you thought. I didn’t want to leave the Americana roots behind, because that’s where the song lives. But I wanted to bring a more soulful, rock and roll feel to it, and honor John Prine’s songwriting while letting the groove carry it somewhere new. And the drumming is something I put a lot of myself into, because that’s my roots. I came up as a drummer before anything else, then moved into production, and this track is really a snapshot of all of that: the musician, the drummer, and the producer, all in one recording. You've cited drummers like Jim Gordon, Levon Helm, and Andy Newmark as influences on this recording. How did you translate those inspirations into your own rhythmic identity without overpowering the song's emotional storytelling? Each of those drummers gave me something different. From Jim Gordon, it’s his musicality and his perfectly placed drum fills. Listen to his drumming on Steely Dan’s ‘Any Major Dude Will Tell You.’ He never played a fill just to be heard; it was always in the right spot. Levon Helm had grease in his playing, and greasy is what gives a drum performance character. Andy Newmark, who was heavily influenced by Gordon, is full steam ahead and punchy, with a gift for using rudiments to make his fills sound simple while still carrying real technique. I’ve absorbed so many of the recordings they played on that it all melded into the style I bring to my studio work. But when I listen, it’s about understanding why they played what they played, and how I can take that influence and make it mine. I’m not copying their parts. Their feel is in my hands now. On this recording, you’ll hear it in a few press rolls, a rudiment-based touch that adds technique without pulling attention from the song. What comes out is my own blend of musicality, grease, and punch, always in service of the song. With ‘Angel From Montgomery,’ that means remembering it’s a song about life, about the parts that don’t turn out how you thought, and the drums have to support that story, not compete with it. So I keep it simple, stay in the pocket, and save the fills for where they mean something. If the drumming is doing its job, you feel it more than you notice it. After spending decades supporting other artists as a drummer and producer, what made this the right moment to release music under your own name, and did that creative responsibility feel different? After decades of supporting other artists, there comes a time when you have to invest in yourself. I love playing drums and percussion, collaborating, and producing, and I’ve done plenty of that on albums like Metalmorphosis: Vol 1, Aftertouch, and The Trez Hombrez. Those were group efforts where the vision was shared. During the pandemic, I started writing and working on demos in all the genres I love. I have a recording studio, and what do you do in a recording studio? You record. I’ve been working on all kinds of pieces, long and short, and I wanted to share them. I also have a great team of musicians to bring them to life. This one is different. It’s not a band project. It’s my production and my arrangement. My friend Josh Lava started the song, and I finished it with his blessing. The creative side felt natural. The arrangement, the production, and the drum parts were my calls, and it was never nerve-wracking. It’s just a matter of using good musical judgment and keeping the end result in sight. What feels different is everything around the music. I’m the one handling the marketing and PR, doing the interviews, and deciding on the mixes and mastering. For the mix, I worked with Jaimeson Durr, who I’ve collaborated with since I lived in San Francisco. With today’s technology, we can work in real time from opposite sides of the country. He’s a brilliant engineer and super chill, which makes the process easier. My approach is still the one I’ve always worked by: listen to the song, keep it simple, and let it lead. You've mentioned that this single is the beginning of a series of releases spanning different genres. What can listeners expect from this next chapter, and how will you connect them? Listeners can expect variety. During the pandemic, I started writing and working on demos in all the genres I love, long and short pieces, and this single is the first of those to come out. The new music will showcase prog, soul, rock and roll, and ambient, plus some songs that mesh all of those styles together. I’ve always been a musical omnivore, so it makes sense that the music would be too. I’ll be releasing covers alongside my own original tunes. Next up, on November 20th, my heavy rock version of Mama Cass Elliot’s ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ will appear on the Evergreen Compilation, a multi-artist release. It’s such a great song, and I wanted to give it a heavy grunge rock treatment. I hope people like it. With covers, my approach is the same as it was with ‘Angel From Montgomery.’ I listen for what the song could naturally become, and then I bring my own arrangement, production, and drumming to it. With my originals, I get to start from a blank page. What connects it all is respect for the listener. That means putting real care into the musicality and the performances on every track. For now, I’m releasing singles, but when the time comes, I’ll put out an album of songs that fit together stylistically. Whatever the genre, I just try to serve the song.

Jamaican-born singer-songwriter Hymn Marley is embracing vulnerability and personal transformation with his 2026 single “Last Dance,” an emotionally driven alternative pop ballad exploring the complicated relationship between love, self-worth, and learning when to let go. Known for blending influences from reggae, pop, R&B, and soul, Hymn Marley continues establishing his own artistic identity while delivering music rooted in meaningful personal experiences. As the son of Stephen Marley and grandson of reggae legends Bob and Rita Marley, Hymn Marley carries an extraordinary musical heritage, but his creative direction reflects a determination to build something entirely his own. Following earlier releases including “Bad Without You,” his 2019 EP In My Head, and the dance-inspired “Not Today,” his latest single introduces another deeply personal chapter. The inspiration behind “Last Dance” emerged during a conversation with his mother while traveling to a studio session. Their discussion explored how relationships can reflect our relationship with ourselves, and how personal growth sometimes requires leaving behind previous versions of who we once were. That realization became the emotional foundation of the song, with Hymn Marley reflecting on his mother's growth and the bittersweet understanding that choosing yourself can sometimes mean accepting difficult changes in the people around you. Following appearances at Ultra Music Festival in Miami, Butter Art Festival in Los Angeles, and Kaya Fest in Canada, Hymn Marley continues expanding his reach, with additional performances planned for 2027. “Last Dance” was inspired by a conversation with your mother about relationships reflecting how we feel about ourselves. What was it about that particular conversation that stayed with you, and how did it change the direction of your songwriting that day? In the conversation, my mom said, "Relationships are often a physical manifestation of how we feel about ourselves. And sometimes we don't leave them; we leave a version of ourselves behind, and the dynamic change is a result of not being the same person," and the entire conversation was so eye-opening that when the producer (Ida Rose) asked, "What's on your mind?" I was like Let's do a last dance with who we were.. And the rest is history. The song explores the idea that sometimes we're not leaving people behind, but rather outgrowing previous versions of ourselves. Have you experienced a moment when personal growth fundamentally changed a relationship you thought would always remain the same? Of course, I think that's what makes us human. Just like a baby grows into a child and so on... we shed versions of ourselves since the day we are born. I think we learn to "stay the same" in situations that might need us to not evolve to stay comfortable. Coming from one of music's most recognizable families, you've inherited an extraordinary creative legacy. How have you navigated the expectations associated with the Marley name while developing an artistic identity that feels entirely your own? To be honest, I don't. People put expectations on me and expect me to fulfill what is in their minds. I'm not Bob nor Stephen, and I wouldn't want to be. They've done a great job at being themselves. If I follow their example, I would do a great job at being myself and allow my own experiences and life views to shape my unique artistry. Your music moves between reggae, alternative pop, R&B, soul, and electronic influences. What has encouraged you to explore sounds outside your family's traditional musical roots, and how has that experimentation changed your confidence as an artist? Honestly, my family. They've always blended genres, and seeing them be able to take inspiration from different places and spaces has shaped me to think outside of the box. Besides, I never really fit in a box anyway, so I might as well let the music follow suit. Since my music doesn't fit a box, I know confidently I can play almost any type of show You've performed at major festivals while continuing to release increasingly personal music. As you prepare for more shows in 2027, what do you want this next chapter of your career to represent, both creatively and personally? This next chapter is all about self-love and acceptance. We have one life to live; not living it is so boring, and I want my artistry to reflect where I am and, most importantly, why. I like to think of myself as a soldier for freedom. I want to help plenty of people, but if I can't help myself, I can't help anyone.

Malta-born, Finland-based electronic producer and SUNTA explores the emotional uncertainty of falling in love again with “kiss me at the bar,” the lead single from their forthcoming debut album, Perforated Hearts. “kiss me at the bar” arrives through an exclusive Bandcamp album pre-order, ahead of its general release on November 6, offering listeners an introduction to the emotional landscape of Perforated Hearts. Blending melodic breakbeats with atmospheric electronica, the six-minute release captures the excitement of a new romantic connection while acknowledging the lingering fears that accompany opening yourself up after heartbreak. Drawing inspiration from a musical background spanning acid house, electro, techno, trance, and experimental electronica, SUNTA approaches electronic music with an appreciation for both movement and emotional storytelling. On “kiss me at the bar,” infectious breakbeats provide the foundation for an introspective journey through vulnerability, desire, and the possibility of finding happiness after a difficult relationship. Inspired by SUNTA's personal experience following a breakup, the single explores that complicated moment when the excitement of meeting someone new begins to outweigh the fear of repeating past mistakes. Rather than allowing those uncertainties to dominate the narrative, SUNTA transforms them into something hopeful, creating a release that celebrates emotional recovery without overlooking the experiences that make new beginnings feel intimidating. “More than anything, I hope people take away a sense of hope,” SUNTA shares, describing the track as a reminder that healthy love exists and can be rediscovered when the time is right. The release also marks SUNTA's reunion with Dealt With Records, five years after their debut single “Offender.” “kiss me at the bar” explores the excitement of finding a new connection after heartbreak. Was there a particular moment when you realized you were ready to embrace that possibility again, and how did it influence the track? I had a good few days hanging at the bar (Cafe Society), drinking cocktails, flirting every now and then, and it was exciting. I realized that I could be desired again after how the previous relationship made me feel. Your music moves between acid house, breakbeats, techno, and more introspective electronica. How has that freedom to experiment shaped your identity as a producer, and what makes this particular sound feel right for you now? I finally came out of a very vicious cycle of living on a small island that is based around partying and raves, and snapped back into reality. I am producing music that I actually listen to on my headphones and in my car. I think the euphoric, yet melancholic vocals on the album reflect the mix of emotions I allowed myself to feel - especially slowing down and actually dealing with it. There’s an interesting contrast between the emotional vulnerability behind “kiss me at the bar” and the energy of its production. How do you approach translating deeply personal experiences into electronic music without relying on traditional storytelling? I honestly don't even think about it; if I'm sad or feeling some type of feeling, I just open Ableton and try to find the first pad or lead and create a melody. Then the rest comes to me. I think producing is very therapeutic for me, so it helps me translate the negative emotions into positive grooves. As I'm producing, I'm usually feeling much better, and by the end of the session I'll be healed haha. You’re reuniting with Dealt With Records five years after releasing “Offender.” Looking back at that first release, how have your creative instincts, production techniques, and ambitions evolved? I was a baby producer back then haha! I wasn't very confident in trying to explore new, more intricate sounds and melodies, and I always felt shy. I felt like I could never produce something like Perforated Hearts a few years ago because it was something complicated in my head - but I put my head into it, followed my feelings, and channeled them into music. Obviously, buying new hardware and VSTs helped me explore more sounds and learn a bit more about synthesis. With “kiss me at the bar” introducing your debut album, Perforated Hearts, what larger emotional journey can listeners expect from the project, and what does completing your first full-length album represent for you personally? The album tells a story; tracks are numbered the way they are to tell it. I'm hoping that listeners will feel the anxiety and melancholy in the beginning, then a journey of healing and softer emotions - leading to finding healthy love and knowing/accepting what you actually deserve. This album has been in the works for 2.5 years. It started with major anxiety due to mixed signals and two-timing, then the breakup in October, which resulted in me having no reason why I was broken up with, blocked, and left stranded in a foreign country. It was a massive healing journey which took a lot of work, therapy, medication, and trauma healing. When I gave up on everything and made peace with the fact that I'm actually okay, don't want anyone, and I'll be single, my now amazing, beautiful partner popped into my life on NYE in Malta. When we met, I found out they were from the same country I was stranded in; what are the odds? Electrovuori is the last track that I produced at home in Roihuvuori in the last 4 months that I have actually been living in - back to Helsinki :D.

Singapore-born, Japan-based alternative pop artist Zoesthesia just released “Coloured Clouds,” a deeply personal electro-indie-pop single that explores the relationship between music, color, trauma, and emotional recovery. For Zoesthesia, color is more than an artistic choice. Living with 14 forms of synaesthesia, a neurological trait in which different sensory experiences become interconnected, Zoesthesia experiences music and emotions through distinct colors. This unusual relationship with perception has become fundamental to Zoesthesia's songwriting, offering an entirely different approach to musical storytelling. “Coloured Clouds,” the artist's second solo single, originated during a particularly difficult period following traumatic experiences in 2020. Zoesthesia temporarily lost the ability to perceive the colors that had always helped make sense of emotions and relationships. What followed was a prolonged period of uncertainty, ultimately becoming the foundation of the new release. The song's emotional narrative revolves around two specific colors: dark blue, representing guilt, and dark purple, representing relief. Rather than treating these colors as decorative imagery, Zoesthesia incorporates them directly into the songwriting and production process, allowing the composition to reflect the gradual disappearance and eventual return of an essential part of personal identity. “I’m lost without my coloured clouds. Just doubts,” Zoesthesia sings, capturing the vulnerability at the center of the release. Beyond recording music, Zoesthesia is an advocate for greater awareness and understanding of synaesthesia. Through educational content, public speaking, and the podcast Let's Talk Synaesthesia, co-hosted with psychologist Maike Preissing, Zoesthesia works to challenge misconceptions surrounding the neurological trait. “If you embrace who you really are, you will never truly lose yourself,” Zoesthesia shares. With “Coloured Clouds,” Zoesthesia presents a compelling example of how personal experiences can inform artistic expression. More importantly, the release addresses something universally recognizable: the difficult journey of losing touch with yourself and discovering that recovery is possible, even when the path back takes years. Your synaesthesia plays a central role in how you experience and create music. When writing “Coloured Clouds,” how did you translate specific colors and emotions into musical decisions, and what were the biggest challenges in that process? The biggest challenge in the process is communicating the visuals that I see in my head to Kevin, my producer, in a language that he is able to translate into sound. I’m essentially using an instrument that only I can see and have access to, so I drew out those images and explained them to him. The way my sound-color synaesthesia works is with timbre. The quality of the sound, and the type of instrument used, is what triggers my synaesthesia. I would draw what the sound looks like now, where the “problem” was, and explain how it’s supposed to look. We would experiment by tweaking the sounds, throwing on different effects, adjusting and readjusting until the sound looks like what I want it to look like. Eventually, Kevin figured out my synaesthesia patterns and my preferences and was able to quicken the process. The only thing he was unable to figure out were my colours patterns - why they are those specific colours. The shapes made sense to him, but not the colours. I didn’t know why either, but I eventually figured out that they were my emotion-colours, which explained why I was very stubborn about the song’s main colours being dark blue and dark purple. So, when the track drifted off into turning brown, I was able to tell, and we would go into the track, toggle each instrument, and figure out which instrument was causing the brown and remove it, returning the track to its original colour When the song is in its supposed colours, I know I’m communicating those emotions that I want. You’ve shared that traumatic experiences temporarily disconnected you from the colours you had relied on throughout your life. How did that experience change your understanding of your identity, and what did you discover about yourself when those colours began returning? At that time when I lost my synaesthesia, I had no idea I lost it, or why I lost it. My understanding of synaesthesia at that time was very limited to my sound-color synaesthesia only. I had no idea I had other forms of synaesthesia. I only noticed that I couldn’t see people’s colours anymore and I thought it was just one of those things that ebbs and flows, but when a year went by and the colours have not returned I got worried. I didn’t feel confident meeting people anymore because I didn’t have my colours to back me up. Every time I tried to “look” I got more confused, and my confidence dropped even more. I wasn’t sure I was reading people correctly or if they were “safe” people for me to be around. When the colours return, it was slow, unstable, and unclear. It took another few more months until everything stabilized again. It was only 3 or 4 years after my colours returned, when I started Zoesthesia, did I learn that it is a known phenomenon that trauma can cause a synaesthete to temporarily lose their synaesthesia. Then it all started making sense to me. I learned how much I relied on my synaesthesia without even knowing that I do. Most of what I felt during that period of time was not an articulated thought or feeling. It was just a whole bag of question marks that didn’t feel right. I discovered so much of who I am is led by my synaesthesia. From what I am drawn to, to my aversions. “Coloured Clouds” went through several transformations before you confronted the emotions behind its blue and purple imagery. Was there a particular moment during the creative process when you realized what the song was actually trying to tell you? It was a growing, gnawing feeling that the lyrics and the song were becoming more and more disconnected. The lyrics at that time were joke lyrics about how I couldn’t find my blanket in the middle of the night, which felt nothing like the blue and purple that felt heavy. It is also just like me to use humor to deflect how I truly feel. The deeper we went into the creative process, the more I couldn’t ignore that gnawing feeling. So, I sat down on my own and started digging. I asked myself a tonne of questions, starting with why those two colours? Why was I so stubborn about it? If I followed the same unconscious pattern like my debut solo single, Poison, where the colours of that song were my emotion colours, this would be the same as well. I went back to the time when I first started writing the song, what was going on in my life back then, and what I was struggling with the most emotionally. I finally arrived at blue being guilt, and purple being relief. Everything snapped into focus for me once I figured that out, and I rewrote the lyrics, and Kevin and I changed the direction of the track to follow suit. It was a bit of an overhaul, and I’m always grateful that Kevin was willing to do it with me. The animated music video gives audiences an opportunity to experience your music through your own perception. What was most important for you to communicate visually, and what do you hope people without synaesthesia will understand after watching it? There is so much haha! The most important thing I would say for me is that I want people to enjoy music like I do. Not just audibly, but visually as well. I would love for people to watch my animation in the dark, blown up on the biggest screen they have, with their noise-canceling headphones, and be fully immersed. That would be very close to my experience when I listen to music. If they can then compare it with other synaesthesia artists, they will notice how different it is for every synaesthete. I would love for them to see how I painted the song with my mind, how it influences how I write, and how overstimulating it can be for someone with synaesthesia. If this is what I see with only one song, imagine my daily life when there are a tonne of overlapping sounds. Hopefully, this will help not only me, but other synaesthetes in gaining more understanding of their sensory limits and perception. Through your music, educational content, and advocacy, you've become a voice for people whose experiences are often misunderstood. What are some of the biggest misconceptions about synaesthesia you hope to challenge, and how do you see your artistic work contributing to that conversation? Some of the biggest misconceptions that I have received are that it’s a fake condition, a disorder, hallucinations, just imagination, a superpower, or that it is schizophrenia. Synaesthesia is a well-studied neurological trait that is consistent and involuntary, and at times can impact our lives negatively even though it is not an illness. I have absolutely no control over what, when, and how I experience my synaesthesia, and it has been very consistent throughout my life. While I understand how it may be difficult for someone without synaesthesia to see how it’s possible for someone to see sound, I hope my work can bridge that gap and make people rethink how our senses speak to one another. We have come a long way since synaesthesia was brought into the scientific community back in the 1980s, but we still have a lot of work left to do. I hope my artistic work can contribute to awareness and understanding, and be living proof of how the trait can manifest in a person.

Bay Area-born independent artist Destinee Alera is turning heartbreak into empowerment with her latest single, “Like A Fool.” Blending contemporary R&B, pop, and nostalgic production influences, the release introduces a confident new direction for the rising singer-songwriter, pairing unapologetic self-expression with the soulful authenticity that has defined her music. Following the release of her self-created six-track debut EP, Drawn Together, earlier this year, Destinee Alera is pushing beyond familiar territory, trading the themes of love, hope, and reflection that shaped her earlier work for something considerably more fearless. Drawing inspiration from Timbaland's rhythmic production and Kehlani's contemporary R&B sensibilities, “Like A Fool” transforms the emotional aftermath of a broken friendship into a narrative resembling a romantic breakup. Rather than dwelling on disappointment, Destinee Alera approaches the experience with newfound confidence, delivering a message about recognizing your worth and knowing when to walk away. The song emerged from a creative conversation with her producer, who challenged her to identify its underlying message, ultimately leading Destinee Alera to discover her own version of Sasha Fierce, an exaggerated, unapologetic alter ego determined to leave unnecessary drama behind. Describing “Like A Fool” as her “disruptor track,” Destinee Alera uses the release to bridge her established musical identity with a more adventurous creative direction. Nostalgic R&B influences meet a bold pop attitude, creating an energetic foundation for lyrics rooted in independence, self-respect, and emotional growth. Beyond its confident exterior, the single explores the realization that closure doesn't always require an explanation, and sometimes protecting your peace means refusing to revisit what you've already outgrown. With more creative exploration on the horizon, “Like A Fool” represents an exciting evolution for Destinee Alera as she continues expanding her sound and challenging expectations. It's a refreshing reminder that some of the most meaningful artistic breakthroughs happen when an artist stops looking backward and starts embracing what's next. “Like A Fool” was inspired by the end of a friendship but written through the perspective of a romantic breakup. What made you choose that storytelling approach, and did it help you process the experience differently? I honestly developed it from a different perspective after my friend and producer/collaborator Rain asked a simple question: ‘Who or what do you think of when you hear this song?’ And I just instantly felt a connection to the healing I’ve gone through with personal friendships. Up to that point, I was writing it as part of a bigger project I’m working on with a completely different theme. The sounds and groove of this song sounded completely different from everything else we were working on, and once she asked that I realized immediately the place I was writing from. When you hear it, it sounds like a song about a breakup, and I think a lot of people would argue that losing a friendship, or connection to a platonic soul tie, hurts deeper than a breakup. And so I thought it would be cool to kind of combine the two: what do you feel for someone you once knew so well that became a stranger? What energy do you have for a betrayal that blindsided you? Love is a powerful thing, and I wanted to try and embody it from a different perspective, the part of it that exists after the hurt and the growth. You've described this song as an opportunity to discover your own version of Sasha Fierce. Who is that version of Destinee Alera, and what does she allow you to express that you might have held back in your previous music? I think I found a bit of her during the process of creating this song. I mean, the beat just immediately grabs you. Every time it played during the writing process I would just feel this energy, a confidence and self-assurance that felt different from just going through day to day life. I felt elevated, in a sense that I could express sentiments that I haven’t really before. This is the first song I’ve written from a place of annoyance, or I guess, ire. My own Sasha Fierce doesn’t necessarily have a name, but she allowed me to channel the version of myself that was feeling fed up and over it. Like my own personal “thank u, next”. There’s a fire that was ignited and present for every part of creating this song, and I’m so proud of it. The production draws inspiration from Timbaland's nostalgic sound while incorporating contemporary R&B influences like Kehlani. What specific elements of those musical worlds did you want to bring together, and how did you make them distinctly your own? I’ve always been a deep lover and student of music, of the greats. The songs that evoke emotion, tell a story, and have informed my life and my own artistry. One of the foundations for my music is always finding ways to blend styles and genres, to break with tradition when I’m writing or singing. The beat is very reminiscent of the early 00s Timbaland / Neptunes style, like JT during the FutureSex/LoveSounds era. During the entire process of writing and recording, I was especially inspired by Aaliyah’s “Are You That Somebody”. It’s always been one of my favorite songs and music videos, and it really reflected the space that “Like A Fool” exists in. Very smooth, feminine, and very powerful. Kehlani is one of my biggest inspirations, amongst so many others, so it’s just natural in my singing style to incorporate aspects of my favorite singers/songs: the runs like Brandy, the confidence present in Kehlani’s music, even just existing in the pocket of the music as so much of Timbaland’s discography does. For me, it’s never about recycling songs or doing what’s popular; it’s finding ways to reinvent and reimagine the things that inspired me to fall in love with music in the first place. Your debut EP, Drawn Together, was entirely self-created and explored themes of love, hope, and reflection. How has your creative process evolved since that project, and what did making “Like A Fool” teach you about your artistic potential? This song exercised so many creative ideas for me, and really allowed me to expand on the type of artist I consider myself to be. With “Drawn Together”, I was coming from a place of frustration, and maybe a bit of uncertainty when it came to my music. The kind of artist I wanted to be, what genre I would occupy, and if it was even possible to create. I couldn’t find the people who could bring my vision to life, and I was tired of feeling like I had to wait for someone else. I made it a goal to do that myself, regardless of how polished it sounded. The project was made from nothing but my phone and some wired headphones, and a lot of it was me channeling my personal feelings as well as the things people around me were going through, so it was a bit heavy, I think. With “Like A Fool” and all of the music I’ve made since, I’ve felt a kind of freedom in the idea of creation, of making the things in my mind a tangible reality. Now I don’t worry as much about finding someone else to do it for me, even if I don’t necessarily have the resources. Since then, I’ve also found a few collaborators through nothing but community, virtually and in person. Taking my time with outsourcing, focusing on collaborating with intention, and trusting my gut has shaped a lot of my process. Now I see myself as boundless, refusing to exist as one kind of artist, or stopping myself from going after things. Though I’ve been doing music for a few years now, it feels like I’m really just beginning to scratch the surface. You've called “Like A Fool” your “disruptor track,” suggesting there's a bigger musical evolution underway. What parts of your artistry are you most excited to challenge next, and what can listeners expect from this new chapter of Destinee Alera? Yes, this song is my disruptor: a bridge between all of my music before, a shift toward a new exploration of my art. “Like A Fool” is unlike any song I’ve made before, and there’s a certain newness I feel from creating it. It’s the first song I’ve ever made a music video for; it’s the first single I’m dropping since the EP. It just symbolizes so much for me in this era of my life, turning 25, feeling grounded but also chaotic with everything happening in my life and the world. It also introduces so much of what’s to come, which excites me because I never want to exist as just one thing. One of the biggest challenges throughout my career has always been the genre question— I don’t consume just one genre, I’m not inspired by just one genre, and I don’t want my music to stick to just one sound. This new chapter expands on some of the ideas I’ve touched on in the past, and I’m really excited to share. It’s influenced by a lot of things, ultimately the realization that in everything I do, I want to be a little bit unorthodox. Artists like WILLOW, RAYE, and the blueprint Beyoncé — doing things on my terms, and experimenting with whatever speaks to me. It’s also influenced by space. Literal outer space. All I’ll say is Interstellar (yes, the movie) changed my life and changed my outlook on music. I’m just really grateful to be able to share my art, and hopefully it resonates with someone who may hear it.